


Against all odds

by UdSoul



Series: short&sweet [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki-centric, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Does What He Wants, Tony Feels, Tony-centric, they both have a heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UdSoul/pseuds/UdSoul
Summary: The green eyes widened. He saw how masks peeled off from Loki’s handsome face, leaving naked sympathy, staring down at him with concern, and darn he hated how his heart fluttered. The heat swam to his iced cheeks, giving them purplish hue, and he fought hard not to grimace. Something refused to stay idle in him; something he daren’t name.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I swore to myself I will not do it...but then I did...and here it is.  
> Mentions of: "Wicked"; mostly "Defying gravity" inspired. "Sherlock", "Twilight" and "Frozen"

The air was freezing. It smelt of winter, oil and pine trees; but the most prominent of them all was the salty smell of iron – blood.

He was staring into space; gaze blank. His mind, like his body felt beaten and tired. The ghosts of his past swirled around him, beckoning him to come closer; to shut his eyes and let it go.

The thought made him chuckle. It was fitting – winter, frost, let it go... _let it go; turn around and slam the door!_ Even better break it to million tiny pieces, so nobody ever find a way to him; so, nobody hurt him anymore.

He, acknowledged, in a distant part of his mind, that this was not worth his statue. He was better than this; he was stronger, but FUCK IT! He had his limits too.

“I am confused; did I miss _my Midgard,_ or somebody finally kicked you from a high-horse, dwarfy?” A taunting voice of his former best-friend reached his ears, and he rolled his eyes not bothering to search for the source.

“Fuck off or, better yet, fuck you, frosty! It’s your damn fault anyway.” He growled, hating how his gut tightened with joy. He missed the bastard, so very much.

“Pray tell me how it’s mine?” That sinful voice hissed, and he had the pleasure to gaze into deep emerald, that was watching him highly displeased, and his heart stopped from the beauty. Cursed, Hatyko syndrome! Gladly, he didn’t have a wagging tail that would betray his _happiness_ , so he could pretend that the dick was annoying him.

“If you weren’t so bitchy, we would still be friends, and then I’d calm you and you won’t fall, and I’d not have to deal with Capcicle, and his psycho-boy-toy, and find out that…that…” His voice hitched there, and he felt ashamed. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake! So, he swallowed and pushed. “He killed my mother, Loki.”

The green eyes widened. He saw how masks peeled off from Loki’s handsome face, leaving naked sympathy, staring down at him with _concern,_ and darn he hated how his heart fluttered. The heat swam to his iced cheeks, giving them purplish hue, and he fought hard not to grimace. Something refused to stay idle in him; something he daren’t name.

“My condolences.” He murmured, in a voice so gentle, Tony could swear he felt the caress.

“I’m sure you mixed something up. She died a long time ago.” Stark brushed the words off; the voice; the…tenderness. He didn’t know where they stood when they were _friends-no-quite-lovers,_ when the closeness between them frightened the shit out of them both – right now, he hadn’t a clue where he wished them to stand.

Loki smirked, but it missed the intent. Tony could, almost, call it a smile. If somebody would have asked the God he would swear it was what it was, of course, if he deemed the opponent worthy enough to answer at all.

Anthony was dear to him, no matter the ugly misunderstandings raised between them – _the fight, the not-so-obvious-war_ – those could not extinguish the _sentiment_ , and by _his dearest_ reaction to his presence, he confirmed it lived in him too.

That’s not to say that he wasn’t aware of it before. When Anthony came to talk to him; insane and shattered, as he was; he was happy to see him. He recognised him, and the _heartache_ saved his sanity. The sound of braking glass, though, damaged it again.

Only months later Loki found a small device Anthony put under the strips of his armour; the means of _communication._ It wasn’t much, and allowed simplest of messages on good days, which were not many, but it was the greatest treasure Loki have ever possessed.

Thus, when he orchestrated his death and sent Thor to Midgard, he made sure to warn Anthony first. Nonetheless, here they were – Anthony betrayed by his _trustworthy friends,_ whom he chose over him.

It hurt.

“You lost your _friend_.” Loki elaborated, not able to keep poison form his voice, when he spat the last word.

Anthony grimaced, chuckling, and Loki seriously ought to do something about his wounds, but was painfully aware that he may not be welcomed.

“I don’t have friends! I had one.” Tony hissed, coughing; the air coming out in whistles. “I get it you’re pissed, Rudolf. But must you make me suffer so!” He complained, all regal, making Loki snigger, which masked the relief he felt; the elevation.

Stark sighed contentedly when Loki’s magic touched him. It was darn pleasant – the marvellous humming under his skin that made him gooey inside. He felt loved whenever Loki touched him in this manner, and did many stupid things to get it.

“Right.” Loki teased, watching Anthony bask in his magic; pleasure clearly visible on his handsome face.  “You have one, Anthony, and how many times I must repeat – you’re not comparable to Sherlock Holmes.”

The grin that bloomed on his pale, rose lips was brilliant, and in the sanctuary of his own mind Loki could safely add that they were not comparable simply because Anthony was hundredths times better.

“So, you insinuate that we don’t have the same level of closeness they do?” He inquired playful, and like so many times before, Loki blushed.

The God would _love_ to tell him what level of _intimacy_ he craved, waking up in the mornings panting, moaning, painfully hard and pitifully alone, Anthony’s name falling from his lips in agonising longing, but, he would never. There wasn’t a torture horrid enough, a deed wicked enough to make him spill this one truth. Anthony was unreachable, and the irony didn’t fell flat on him. Similar, indeed.

But he allowed himself to lean closer, to taunt _his friend,_ halting a breath away from _the kiss_ – so very close, and dreadfully far.

“I cannot muster enough goodness in me to pass out for John.” He murmured, delighted how Anthony’s breath hitched.

Loki knew he could have him for a night. One shouldn’t be astute to seduce Tony Stark – pretty face was more than enough. However, that was rather the problem. The God could not grasp the deepness of desire, since, he was used to seeing it dissolve come the morning, and fret that he will lose Anthony if he acted upon it.

Starks eyes darkened; his throat becoming suddenly dry, and he licked his lips unconsciously; the nearness fucking with his senses. Tony wanted Loki since the day he saw him, but they became _friends,_ and Stark didn’t want to screw that for a glorious fuck. Never mind, it grew from lust to shameful adoration. Scratch the fact that Stark _loved_ him.

The emotions accumulated between them. The silence became thick and somebody ought to do something, but they froze, staring at each other; stuck in an awkward pose, and wishing to stay like this forever. Until, Tony decided to threw caution to the wind and tried to grab Loki to snatch that long-overdue kiss, but, unfortunately, his armour was not concurring his desires. It screeched awfully, making his hand stop mid movement, and the worst part – it made Loki move.

The God straightened into a proper sitting position; the moment ruined by _the ungainly mortal_. He sniggered, though, when he saw the problem.

“Har, har!” Tony spat, wiggling clumsily in the dead suit, scoffing.

“Need some help, _dear_?” Loki purred, rudely entertained by his misery.

“As much as I’m in for being undressed for you.” Tony simply _adored_ the want he saw on God’s face – dangerous, unbridled desire. “I’ll die from the exposure.”

“I’ll keep you warm.” Loki murmured gently, and before Stark could jab him, he waved his hand taking the armour off and enveloping him in a green glow.

“Protection?” Tony inquired, exited. He loved magic as much as he loved Loki.

“Yes. It takes more energy, but I know how you _like_ the effects.” Loki _purred,_ gliding close to him; invading his space and without the armour it felt that much _significant_. Stark stared at him, slack-mouthed. Whatever thought he could muster would surely get him _killed_. The knowing smirk, bloomed on _his friends_ features, and he had to whine, startling the God, and congratulating himself on breaking the bastards _spell_.

“Do _something_ or stop.” He demanded. The dam crumbling; emotions flowing freely out of him, giving different taste to the _reunion_.

Loki shied visibly. The confidence evaporating, leaving an exposed _vulnerability._ He blinked, and spoke with outmost _caution_ , trailing shaking fingers softly up his neck.

“Together we could have been unlimited. The dreams the way we planned them…The Nines at our command…You pushed me away.” He whispered, resentment and lingering hurt worming its way to the surface. Loki dropped his hand, turning away; moving away, like the last time. Stark let him do that then, he won’t allow it now.

He grabbed him by the neck, pushing them close, and keeping him there. Loki complying with his wish. The hair was soft under his fingertips; the skin silky in texture, and he couldn’t stop himself from caressing it, tangling his arm into the tresses – possessive.

“Tell me how the free flight went for you – dead prince, false majesty.” Stark growled, his own fears and pains showing. Loki tensed, but did not break the hold; bitterness colouring his words.

“It went as gloriously as your altruistic strive, I presume.”

It was messed up, dirty, twisted. Stark was not on board with Loki’s handwavy morality, and Loki hated the naivety of Tony’s beliefs, but together…They were friends for _eternity_. They created _miracles_ far beyond Nine’s keen. They complimented each other, and if given chance; given a _purpose to work –_ they could be…can be magnificent – together.

So, what if Loki fell and destroyed half the Nines in the process. So, what if Tony in the desperate wish to _touch him_ maimed half the Earth. So, what if they hurt each other badly, and will continue to desolate whoever unlucky to get in the middle…So, what?

“Always hated that musical…” Stark murmured, leaning closer. “Illogical.” Loki caught the mood, and excitedly gravitated towards.

“Isn’t it the fate of all _villains_?” The God hummed, almost fidgety, his hands coming up to hold Anthony’s face gingerly.

“They should have become _wicked_ together.” Stark deadpanned, claiming those sarcastic, soft lips in a chaste kiss, that quickly became heated.

Loki moaned into his mouth, impatiently biting on the sensitive skin, and sliding his clever tongue inside to ravish him boldly, when he got the opening. Anthony grunted, tugging at his hair, to be rewarded with a growl. Loki pulled him onto his lap; not caring for the slight resistance he got; forceful, selfish bastard. Stark made sure to bite him harshly for the manhandling, but it only made the God shiver in pleasure. Tony chuckled, nibbling down the pointy jaw until he found a perfect place to leave a hickey, gasping when skilful hands _squeezed_ his arse. Stark bucked his hips, brushing against impressive erection; his insides trembling in _anticipation_. He wanted to feel the damned Trickster inside him right about now.

Anthony tore a choked moan from his abused throat; teeth scraping along the skin provocatively. His body vibrated from the scorching desire; mind clouded by the taste and sound. The outside world fading, replaced by the heat of his beloved mortal. He longed to have him right here, but couldn’t.

The passion between them popped and sizzled still, until it became too much to bare, and suddenly, Loki became soft and shushing. Anthony whined outright; being caprice and challenging; _tempting_ , and it took everything from him not to _snap_.

“Anthony, my heart, _cease_.” He beseeched, not hiding the regret and, Nines bless, he listened.

“Why!?” Tony demanded – childish, adorable…loved.

“I will break you.” Loki explained and warned, in one sentence; showering accessible skin with light kisses. He couldn’t take all, but at least he can have something.

“Fuck you…” Tony pouted, greedily accepting the caress.

“Is not possible either, I’m afraid.” Loki teased, chuckling at the bite he earned for all his grace.

“You’re a mage. Think of something.” Tony complained, coaxing Loki into a kiss. The God went along gladly, but stopped it before it could rub him of higher-senses.

“I will, dear. But first, let’s take you home.” He said, scooping him into his arms, and even though Anthony relaxed into his hold; the man looked mortally offended.

“What is it, my heart?” Loki inquired, not able to stop voicing his affection.

“I cannot believe, _love,_ you reduced me to _Bella_.” The nickname had a certain ring of sarcasm to it, but even as such, it messed with Loki’s heart enough for his cheeks to flush with pleasure.

“At least in _that_ version we’re both _immortal_ , happily married and have a child.” Loki attempted to tease him, but the implications were too close to his own desires, thus, it came out more wistful than he wanted it to sound.

“I’m not giving birth to anything.” Tony humphed, crossing his arms.

“Whatever you wish, my heart.” Loki swore, laughing joyfully, while they disappeared into a thin air, to forge a new beginning – together.


End file.
